Whisper
by Infusiion
Summary: a young woman comes to the clinic and Cameron notices something suspicious, but is told to stay out of it, so she does. But when the woman is murdered Cameron becomes more involved than she had ever intended. Murder, mystery and the paranormal collide.
1. Isabelle

**DISCLAIMER: i do not own any one or anything from house. **

**SUMMARY: a young woman comes into the clinic and Cameron notices something suspicious. Cameron is told to stay out of it, so she does. But when the woman is murdered Cameron becomes more involved than she had ever intended.**

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"Ouch, Isabelle, how did you do this?" Cameron asked the young woman kindly while inspecting her foot.

Isabelle shifted uncomfortably before answering. "I broke a glass, and then kind of slipped and stumbled through it. Pretty stupid." She added with an uneasy chuckle. Cameron could tell this wasn't the whole story, but decided to wait until all the pieces of glass had been pulled out of the woman's foot before asking any more questions.

When she had pulled all of the shards out and stitched up the deepest wounds, Cameron was about to question the Isabelle further when the patient broke into a coughing fit.

"That doesn't sound too good." She said in concern. "Here, let me have a listen." Pulling out her stethoscope, she went around to Isabelle's back, and lifted her sweater. The younger woman started to protest, but shuddered when the cold metal hit her skin. Cameron frowned slightly.

"It doesn't sound too bad." Glancing down, Cameron noticed some harsh discolouring on the woman's hip. It was a large bruise, an ugly mixture of purple and yellow.

"What happened here?" Cameron asked, her frown deeper with concern. Isabelle pulled her sweater down hastily, and reached for the crutches she had brought in with her.

"It's nothing, I must have hit the counter when I slipped. It's not serious." She babbled, sliding off the table. Cameron wasn't convinced, and took a better look at her patient. She now noticed more bruising peeking up from under Isabelle's collar. "Then how did your neck get bruised too?" she replied, trying to sound kind, but firm. Isabelle quickly adjusted her collar.

"I don't know, I really can't remember. I was… drunk." She added, making for the door. Cameron grabbed her arm. "Isabelle…" she warned. But the younger woman interrupted her. "No, you don't understand. Its nothing. You don't want to get involved. It was my fault. I wasn't being careful." And with that, she wrenched her arm out of Cameron's grip, and exited.

Cameron sighed, and disposed of the shards she had pulled from Isabelle's foot, shaking her head. She knew there was something else going on, but there wasn't anything she could do. Was there?

Deciding it was best to do as the girl wanted and leave her alone, she prepared for her next patient.

----------HOUSE MD----------

House was being a bastard again, unsurprisingly, and was being particularly stubborn about their latest case. Cameron told herself she shouldn't expect otherwise as she prepared to go home that evening. She was dog-tired, and just wanted to put her feet up and relax.

When she opened her front door she sighed contentedly, threw her keys on the kitchen bench, and poured herself a drink. Flicking through the television channels she found nothing worth watching, and decided to go to bed and read. She made herself comfortable under the covers, opened the book and started reading.

"_What happened here?" Cameron asked, her frown deeper with concern. Isabelle pulled her sweater down hastily, and reached for the crutches she had brought in with her. _

"_It's nothing, I must have hit the counter when I slipped. It's not serious." She babbled, sliding off the table. Cameron wasn't convinced, and took a better look at her patient. She now noticed more bruising peeking up from under Isabelle's collar. "Then how did your neck get bruised too?" she replied, trying to sound kind, but firm. Isabelle quickly adjusted her collar. _

"_I don't know, I really can't remember. I was… drunk." She added, making for the door. Cameron grabbed her arm. "Isabelle…" she warned. The younger woman stopped and stared Cameron in the eyes. All was quiet. Suddenly she opened her mouth wide and screamed, a bloodcurdling scream that shattered the walls._

Cameron gasped and sat up, book falling to the floor with a flutter. Her heart was racing, and a tiny bead of sweat trickled down her brow.

"Whoa…" she mumbled, before getting out of bed and heading out to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. "What was that all about?"

She went back to bed and switched the lamp off, somehow not wanting to fall asleep.

----------HOUSE MD----------

The next morning Cameron arrived late. She had tossed and turned for hours trying to fall asleep, finally dozing off at about three am. So needless to say, she had slept in this morning.

Foreman and Chase met her in the conference room.

"Why are you so late?" Chase enquired.

"I'm only 20 minutes late." Cameron replied.

"But considering you usually get here a good half hour before us, that's pretty late." Foreman piped up.

Cameron sighed. "Can't we just go and MRI the patient?" she asked, with a small grin on her face.

Negative, of course. Just like the last time. Might as well try and see if he'll listen, Cameron thought to herself as the three doctors headed towards House's office.

House was sitting back in his chair, watching General Hospital. Chase led the way, barging in without hesitating. "Guess what? MRI was negative." He announced.

House turned to look at them, with his most impatient look on his face. "Negative...That's a big word, Dr Chase. However did you manage it?" he replied. Chase rolled his eyes. "So what other test do you suggest we redo, to satisfy your over-sized ego?" he retorted. They began arguing. Foreman even joined in, but Cameron wasn't listening. The newsflash that had just begun had her full attention.

"Shut up!" she yelled, before racing over to the TV and turning the volume up, heart beating wildly.

"The young woman has been identified as Isabelle Watkins, a twenty-three year old law student.Her body was found outside her family home last night, and the death is being treated as highly suspicious. Police have no suspects. If you have any information regarding Isabelle's death…"

Chase let out a low whistle, Foreman shook his head, and House remained silent in his chair. Cameron stood motionless. In the darkest recesses of her mind, she heard Isabelle scream.


	2. Bad Coffee

**well, here it is. sorry about the wait! many thanks to Belmont-Bellamy, my wonderful beta. the fic will be so much better with your guidance. okay, enough with the soppy crap. on with the story!**

**DISCLAIMER: not mine, not mine, not mine. shall i repeat? look, i underlined it!****

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Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. Cameron wished it would drown out the piercing scream that was sending chills down her spine. Isabelle was dead! As her stomach churned, she hurried from House's office.

Reaching the bathroom, Cameron threw up violently, doubling up as every muscle in her body seized. When she finished she slid to the floor in her stall, eyes closed and chest heaving. People died all the time; no one knew this better than her, so why was she feeling this way?

_Because you noticed something was wrong, and you let her walk out_. A cold voice reasoned in her head.

"She said she slipped." Cameron whispered hoarsely to herself.

_Everybody lies._

"She didn't want my help."

_Yes she did._

"She told me to stay out of it."

_It's your job to help people, whether they like it or not._

"She told me not to."

_It's your fault she's dead._

"No, it's not."

_You could have helped her Allison_.

"Cameron?" A muffled shout by Chase came from the corridor. He sounded concerned. Cameron groaned and pulled herself to her feet. She flushed the toilet and exited her stall. The bright light gleaming off the tiled walls burned her eyes, and it took a few moments for them to adjust.

"Cameron? Are you in there?" Chase called again.

"Yes." She croaked, her throat sore. Swallowing she tried again, but louder this time.

"Are you OK?" He yelled. Cameron sighed and splashed some cold water onto her face, muttering darkly about men and their immature fear of female toilets. Her head was aching, and all she wanted to do was go home, crawl under her blankets and never come out.

"Yes, I'm fine!" Drying her face, she took a few deep breaths to prepare herself for Chase, Foreman and maybe even House's questions. If House had decided to pull his head out of his ass long enough to be concerned about her, that is. 'No,' thought Cameron, 'screw that'. She couldn't handle their questions right now.

When she came out, Chase narrowed his eyes, noting Cameron's red-rimmed ones.

"Are you sure you're OK? What's wrong?" He added without waiting for a response.

"I'm fine; it must have been the coffee or something." Turning away so she didn't have to look at Chase, Cameron brushed him off. "I'm going to the clinic," She called over her shoulder hurrying off down the corridor.

Chase frowned in confusion. "But you didn't have a coffee!" He yelled after her, but she didn't appear to have heard him. Sighing, Chase turned on his heel and walked back to the conference room.

"Women…" he sighed as he pushed the glass door open.

"Where did she go?" Foreman asked, referring to Cameron. He too was concerned. The look on her face as she watched the newsflash was quite unnerving.

"To the toilets." Chase replied, pulling out a chair for himself. "When she came out she was really pale and her eyes were red. I think she's sick." He added.

"Maybe she's pregnant?" House offered as he limped animatedly into the room. Chase rolled his eyes while Foreman stared at House coldly through his eyelashes.

"What? I'm not allowed to offer an opinion?" House asked, pretending to be insulted.

"Not today you're not." Foreman snapped. "So… How do you plan on wasting our time now?"

House smirked and picked up a marker, positioning himself next to the whiteboard. "Well, seeing as our Dr Cameron is a bit under the weather, you two have a lot of testing to do to make up for her absence."

"But she's down in the clinic!" Chase protested. "Can't we just-"

House interrupted him. "Use your brains. She's going home, or at least she will be going home once she's finished hiding in exam room three."

House was right. Cameron was hiding in the clinic only she was in exam room two and she had every intention of going home once she felt she had calmed down. But, no matter how deep she breathed or how much cold water she splashed on her face, she couldn't wash away the burning guilt tearing her insides apart. 'Trust me to feel this way,' she thought, 'but why? Why am I feeling this way? I couldn't have helped Isabelle, could I? It could have been a robbery gone wrong or maybe a car hit her. The reporter wasn't specific.'

Deep down Cameron knew there was more to it. She felt it, hidden beneath the swirling pit of remorse.

'Who manages to step in a pile of glass?' Isabelle had about four reasonably sized shards in her foot, not counting all the little pieces and from what Cameron could see, the young woman had tried to remove them herself. They had been too deep. The skin had swollen and closed over them, so they weren't fresh wounds.

Sighing, Cameron slid herself off the exam table, and smoothed the creases out of her pants. Pulling her lab coat onto her shoulders, which seemed pointless seeing as she was about to leave, but her mind was elsewhere, she straightened her shoulders and exited the exam room.

"The world just isn't as safe as it used to be," a nurse at the station was saying.

"I know. Just look at that young woman who was murdered last night. I heard she was strangled outside her home. Twenty-three years old. Her whole life ahead of her." The other replied, shaking her head. Cameron turned her head sharply to look at them. They were talking about Isabelle. There was no escaping her. Again Cameron's stomach started to stir threateningly.

Not watching where she was going, she walked straight into a man who was headed into the clinic. Stumbling backwards, she landed hard on her backside.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." He was saying as he extended a hand to help her up.

"That's alright. It was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going." Cameron replied, taking his hand and pulling herself up.

He chuckled. "Never mind. Just be more careful next time, Dr Cameron." He said kindly, before continuing his journey towards the clinic.

'How did he know my name?' Cameron thought unnerved. She stood frozen to the spot until realisation hit her, and she began to glow with embarrassment. She glanced awkwardly down at the ID pinned to her coat pocket, and stepped towards the elevator.

'I have to stop feeling like this. I have to accept the fact Isabelle is dead, and there was nothing I could do. There is nothing I can do now. It's over. She's dead.' Cameron scolded herself repeatedly, but her efforts were pointless. No matter how much she fooled herself into thinking otherwise, she could never forget Isabelle Watkins.

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_please review, i'm putting much more thought an effort into this fic than any other i've written so far! hope you're enjoying it. i cant make any guarantees concerning the next chapter, but i can say you wont be waiting too long._


	3. No Need For Concern?

**REMINDER: i don't own the characters (except isabelle), i merely manipulate them.

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"Go home." Cuddy told Cameron kindly from her place behind the desk. Cameron nodded, more than a little relieved, and headed out of the office.

"Dr. Cameron?"

"Yes?" Stopping by the door, she turned to look at Cuddy.

"Are you alright?" Her boss asked gently, sounding as concerned as Chase had been previously that day.

"Yeah, I'm just really tired.' Cameron gave a weak smile, attempting to hide the lie she was about to tell, "I was… sick through the night."

Not thoroughly convinced, Cuddy decided to let it slide. She trusted the young doctor's judgement, even if she _was_ paler than usual and very obviously lying through her teeth. "OK. Take it easy driving home."

-----------HOUSE MD-----------

As Cameron passed the clinic she heard Foreman call her name.

"What now?" she grumbled, trying to pretend she hadn't heard him. She knew Foreman and Chase were worried and they had every right to be, as a rule she did not usually run from the room to vomit, but at this moment all she wanted was to go home. She did not care or want to worry about them worrying about her.

"Are you going home?" Foreman asked as he approached.

Cameron looked pointedly at the bag slung over her shoulder. He followed her gaze and shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"I just… are you alright?" he asked hesitantly. Normally Cameron would have found his concern flattering, but at this moment it caused her to flush with anger.

"No! I'm not alright! I'm going home, aren't I? I wish everyone would just leave me the hell alone!" snapped Cameron with unnecessary force, throwing her hands in the air and storming out of the clinic before Foreman could react. Immediately, she felt guilty for blasting him, but her need for some alone time outweighed any remorse. Besides, she told herself, why did everyone feel the need to know ever moment of her life or feeling she had?

Switching to autopilot somewhere between the hospital doors and her car, Cameron found herself ten minutes later sitting on the edge of her bed without any recollection of the drive home. She sat in complete silence, staring unblinkingly at a spot on her wall with her back perfectly straight and her shoulders stiff.

Suddenly her eyes burned as all her emotions rose to the surface, fighting to be freed. All the thoughts and feelings she had suppressed over the last day spilled down her front, leaving glistening trails down her cheeks. She lay down and wept, each sob stronger than the last, until every muscle on her body shuddered and screamed.

She must have cried herself to sleep, for the next thing she knew she was staring into the darkness, her covers were strewn everywhere and her stomach was painfully empty. Rising unsteadily from the bed, Cameron staggered into the kitchen, fumbling for the light switch, and flicked it on. She headed to the cupboard searching for something quick and easy to make. She wasn't really the cooking type and tonight, especially, she wanted something with minimal preparation and minimal mess.

Pulling out a loaf of bread, and rummaging in the fridge, Cameron sighed to herself. She needed to go to the market, not to mention clean the morning dishes, but she felt lifeless. Slapping some slightly out-of-date sandwich meat between two slices of bread, Cameron yawned. Not bothering to cut her sandwich, she shuffled over to the television and switched it on.

"Petechial haemorrhaging and ligature marks on her neck. The victim was strangled, with what appears to be rope, or possibly even cord. These marks here are particularly-" Cameron flicked the channel furiously, her heart pounding in her ears as the news cast reporting Isabelle's death instantly sprang to mind. She didn't find forensic shows appealing anymore.

"We need to intubate!" A young, extremely attractive doctor cried dramatically. Cameron snorted bitterly as she watched the actors 'intubate' the patient, who was breathing quite normally, and even blinked a couple of times. When further inspection of the channels produced nothing but mindless soaps and boring movies, Cameron settled for a documentary series on Australian marsupials. She tucked her feet up and made herself comfortable.

"The red kangaroo, or Macropus Rufus, can reach a height of 9 feet, and weigh up to 150 pounds. The males can be quite dangerous and have been known to attack humans,"

Finishing off her sandwich and yawning again, her eyelids were heavy with sleep, and her head ached. She felt herself sink into the warm couch, and failed to hold onto consciousness. Her grip on the remote control loosened, and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

Cameron woke up hours later to a piercing scream. She sat up in alarm and scanned the room, her eyes wide.

"Bald Eagles live near large bodies of open water such as lakes, marshes, seacoasts and rivers, where there are plenty of fish to eat…"

She inhaled deeply, and let the air out with a sigh. In the wavering light cast by the television, Cameron could see the remote lying on the floor. She picked it up hoping to switch the TV off, but noticed the batteries were missing. Instead she heaved herself off the couch, and flicked the power button off on the television itself.

As she was stretching, Cameron froze, her breath catching in her throat. There was movement in her peripheral vision. A noise coming from the kitchen made her jump. Turning her head to investigate, she could hear a heavy pounding rhythm, and realised she had been holding her breath. Taking deep breaths to steady her heart, Cameron slowly moved towards the kitchen.

'Maybe it's the cat. Wait, I don't have a cat' she thought nervously as she edged closer.

'Why is the light off? I didn't switch the light off' her heart sped up again, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

She reached the kitchen and hesitated before entering in one swift movement. Nothing. Light from the streetlamps outside filtered in, exposing the empty room. Cameron let out a relieved sigh, and chastised herself for being jumpy and ridiculous as she turned on her heel to go to her bedroom. Rounding the corner she met Isabelle's fixed gaze. Cameron's mind barely had a chance to register the fact the dead girl was standing before her before she screamed and threw her hands over her eyes. Sobbing and clutching her chest with her eyes still screwed shut, Cameron was unaware she was sinking to her knees.

After what seemed like hours, Cameron, huddled on the floor with sweat trickling gently down her back, slowly raised her head and opened her eyes. The image of Isabelle staring at her still burned on the back of her eyelids, but no one was there. Her hallway was bare, and her bedroom door was ajar, inviting her in.

The alarm clock on Cameron's bedside table read 12:14 am, which was earlier than she expected. She quickly removed her work clothes, and shivered as the cool air hit her damp skin. She threw a t-shirt on, crawled into bed, and pulled the covers over her head. It became unbearably warm and even difficult for her to breathe, but she didn't remove them.

Even hours later as sleep finally took over Cameron couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.


	4. The Beginning

**Sorry about the wait! Like I've said before, I'm putting a lot of effort into this story so I can't just sit down at the computer and whip up another chapter, like I can for some of my other fics. DISCLAIMER: This is the part where I tell you I don't own the characters from House MD, but I shouldn't have to because you know this already.**

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Cameron woke up the following morning with the covers still bunched over her head. Her whole body was stiff from being curled in the same position all night, and her t-shirt was soaked with sweat. She felt very much the frightened little girl.

Upon peeking out from the covers Cameron noticed morning light filtering in through her curtains. The brightness reassured her, like it had all those times as a child. She tentatively pushed the covers away and gasped as the cool air hit her clammy skin. Now as she sat up in her bed, she tried to remember what had her so scared in the first place, and then she remembered Isabelle.

Allison Cameron was a woman of science. Of fact. She scolded herself for letting a silly vision frighten her. That's all it was. Dead girls don't stand around in people's hallways. A guilty conscience may play tricks on overtired, stressed doctors, but really, _dead girls don't stand around in people's hallways_.

Instead of searching for a deeper truth like many people would, Cameron convinced herself it was am image created by her subconscious spurred on by her guilty conscience.

"That'll do." She sighed as she popped her last two pieces of bread in the toaster. "…Must go to the store tonight." There was a small supermarket down the road that didn't close until nine o'clock, so she could stop by there after work. Her stomach churned painfully as she swallowed the toast; a reminder of the day before.

Her stomach was still protesting when she pulled into her parking space at the hospital. Every muscle in her body joined in when she climbed out of the car. She wasn't going to forget the previous day's events anytime soon. Not when something as simple as walking hurt so much.

Foreman noticed her wincing as she sat down. "What's the matter?" He asked, trying to look nonchalant. He hadn't forgotten either, which caused Cameron to wince further.

"Just a bit sore after I… vomited yesterday." She replied hesitantly. "Look, Foreman, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I had a lot on my mind, and I wasn't feeling the best." She apologised and he nodded slowly.

"It's alright. I'm just not accustomed to seeing you like that."

"Like what?" She smiled, relaxing a little. She valued Foreman's forgiveness. He paused for a moment.

"Like… a bitch." He laughed gently.

Cameron opened her mouth in mock horror. "I can be a bitch!" She exclaimed indignantly.

Foreman raised an eyebrow. He was about to continue their friendly banter when House limped in followed closely by Cuddy.

"Don't you walk away from me House!" Cuddy was saying angrily.

"Bye bye." House said brightly as he shut the door in his boss's face. Cuddy, who knew House better than anyone, glared at him through the glass before stalking off in the opposite direction.

"Won't take 'no' for an answer, our Cuddy," said House fondly. "She wants me, you know."

In her chair Cameron relaxed further. She could see this was going to be like any other day and the knowledge was surprisingly comforting.

At that moment Chase appeared, late as usual. He approached the door and was reaching for the handle when House spotted him.

"Oh that's no good." He said, locking the door with a 'click'. Chase tried and failed to open the door, frowning in confusion. Cameron snorted with laughter while Foreman grinned smugly next to her. Bullying Chase was an excellent way to take her mind off things.

Isabelle soon disappeared from her thoughts as she and Foreman watched Chase run back and forth trying to open the doors while House taunted the young doctor by unlocking the door furthest from him.

--------------HOUSE MD--------------

Cameron was in the lab when she felt something jab her in she shoulder. "Ow! What the…" She cursed, spinning around.

House stood in the doorway, cane outstretched. "So… have we got the old Cameron back?" He asked, poking her again.

"What do you mean, House?" She asked impatiently. She was fast becoming annoyed and didn't bother hiding it.

"Well, you seem to be channelling Linda Blair the past couple of days. Wrong move on the Ouija board?" He said conversationally, flicking her dishevelled hair with his cane to support his point. Cameron frowned as she tried to work out what he meant.

"Because… because I threw up yesterday and my hair is messy?" Her tone was incredulous when she answered him. "I wasn't feeling well!" Now she was becoming defensive. She was not about to open up to House right now.

"Don't forget about the screaming match with Foreman and that bruise on your temple you obviously weren't aware of." He added nonchalantly, looking around the room as he did.

Cameron's arm jerked as she stopped her hand from travelling up to her temple. What bruise? Then she remembered hitting the wall in her hallway the night before.

House noted her puzzled expression and grinned a self-satisfied grin." Just save it for the weekend Dr. Cameron." He told her before he hobbled back out the door, with her frowning after him.

"Save what?" she asked herself. Did he think she was on drugs? She _wished_ she were on drugs for Christ's sake! Then she could explain the hallucination and the fact she spent all night hiding under the blankets like a little child!

She walked back to the conference room, wincing in frustration more than pain. After she found her make-up kit she headed to the bathroom to hide the bruise.

--------------HOUSE MD--------------

Dark clouds had gathered overhead by the time Cameron left the hospital. The air was still and the roads were quiet and eerie. She shivered as she climbed into her car. Her muscles had loosened up a bit so she forgot about the aching for the moment. She was writing a list for the store when something pounded on the window making her jump. It was Chase. He motioned for her to wind down the window.

"Sorry if I scared you. Do you have plans for tonight?" He asked. Cameron shook her head.

"No. Why?" She replied.

"I wanted to see if you'd catch a movie with me? I was gonna ask Foreman too." He added when she narrowed her eyes. "Purely platonic. I told you I was seeing someone, didn't I?"

Cameron thought about it. "Look, Chase, I'm not really in the mood for a movie right now." Which was true.

"Come on, it's the weekend. You can choose the movie." He tried again.

Cameron sighed. All she wanted was to go home and go to sleep. Home, where there was no one else there to bother her. Home, with its darkened corners and silent rooms. Home, where visions of a dead girl crept around scaring the life out of her. A chill ran down her spine. A movie? Yes, a movie would be great now she thought about it. She decided she'd rather put up with a movie than go home. She did not want to be left alone.

"Okay." She replied, trying not to sound too eager.

"Alright then. We'll just take our own cars. Hang on, let me ask Foreman." Cameron watched him stride over to Foreman, who was exiting the hospital. She chewed her lip waiting to see his response. Chase came back shaking his head.

"Damn." She murmured when he returned to his car. It was always nicer when the three of them went out together. They got along much better outside of work where there were no stressful cases and no House.

"You don't want to get changed, do you?" Chase asked as he climbed into his car, which occupied the space next to her.

"Nah," Cameron answered, waving her hand. It was only a casual trip to the movies and she was quite comfortable in her work clothes. Besides, getting changed would mean going home.

"Okay, let's go." Chase said. He wound his window up and switched the ignition on. Cameron followed suit and the two of them headed for the cinema.

--------------HOUSE MD--------------

"Okay, which one do you want to see?" Chase asked Cameron when they arrived.

She certainly wasn't in the mood for a horror movie, and romance didn't appeal to her at that time so she chose comedy. She needed something to take her mind off things. Plus Chase would appreciate a comedy too. She pointed one out.

"That one. It's got some good reviews and it starts in ten minutes."

Chase nodded his approval. "One of my friends saw that. Said it was hilarious. I'll get the tickets if you want to get some snacks?" He indicated the snack bar. She agreed and headed over to it.

She was still feeling a little queasy so she chose some unbuttered popcorn and lemonade for herself, some Coke and salted popcorn for Chase, and a packet of lollies for the both of them to share.

"Do you want an ice cream?" She asked him when he handed her a ticket. "No, this is enough, thanks." Chase replied. The two of them headed over to the cinema doors.

"Number four, down the hall to your left. Enjoy the movie." The young man told them when he ripped the butt off their tickets.

"It's quiet, isn't it?" Chase observed when they entered cinema four. Apart from a couple down the front they were the only people in there. The lights had already been turned off and an advertisement for the snack bar was showing as they crept down to find a seat.

Cameron had taken a few steps when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around to find Chase next to her. "What?" she whispered. He looked at her.

"What?" he repeated. "You tapped me!" Cameron reminded him.

"No I didn't." He deadpanned. She narrowed her eyes to let him know she was onto him, and continued walking down the aisle.

"Let's sit here." Chase whispered, pointing out a row of seats. She stumbled a bit and let him walk in front of her.

She was edging her way down the row or chairs when she felt another tap on her shoulder. This time she froze. Her heart began drumming in her chest. She turned around and saw no one behind her. She turned back to see Chase sitting in a chair slurping his Coke. "What's up?" He asked when he noticed her standing there.

"Nothing, I just spilt some popcorn." Cameron lied, her voice shaking a tiny bit.

"Crikey… if I had a dollar for every time I've spilt popcorn down the aisle I'd be my own millionaire." He chuckled as he chewed on his straw. Cameron offered an uneasy laugh and sat down.

"Once when I was here on a date I tripped down the first couple of steps and emptied my popcorn all over the nearest row of seats. I can look back now and laugh but at the time I didn't think it was very funny" Chase's voice drifted off as the preview for a new action movie blared to life on the screen.

Cameron didn't relax through the majority of the film. She laughed a few times, but her heart wasn't in it. It was too busy thumping heavily in her chest. The air was freezing in the cinema so she drew her jacket tighter around her shoulders and tucked her feet up. The hairs on the back of her neck were on end and this caused her to shiver more.

"You cold?" Chase asked as he watched her curl up. She nodded hesitantly. "I'll show you what I like to do." He turned sideways in his seat and rested his legs over the armrest so his back was to her. He indicated she do the same. When she did he shifted backwards a bit so his back was against hers. This new position against his back was warmer and made her feel secure. Immediately she relaxed, though the hairs on her neck were still on end. For the second time over the last day she couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched.

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_I heart opinions! I realise that whole thing with Chase may seem OOC, but who knows how well the Ducklings get along outside of work? I don't know when all this is happening, but I'd probably say before Hunting, floating around somewhere between seasons one and two. Or you could say it's timeless. How mysterious... **REVIEW! ... please**_


	5. A Nightmarish Reality

**(clears throat) Ahem!**

**Belmont Bellamy would like me to blame her for making you wait last time. And I would like to thank Belmont Bellamy for being a wonderful Beta. And I would also like to thank all the people who are reading, and who have reviewed, the story.**

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Cameron squinted as she and Chase emerged from the cinema. The movie had ended and it was now time to leave.

"Ah um, Cameron?" she heard Chase say behind her.

"What?" she replied, turning to look at him.

"There's blood on your jacket." He told her hesitantly. She frowned. "What do you mean 'blood'?"

"I mean there are bloody stains on your shoulder." His voice grew louder as he leaned in closer to inspect them. "Fingerprints, by the look of it." He stated.

Cameron's heart plummeted. She remembered the unexplained tapping she had felt in the cinema and shivered as every hair on her body stood on end. Suddenly it felt as though the carpet was being pulled out from under her feet as her head spun sickeningly.

"Are you okay?" Chase watched her warily as she held a hand to her forehead in an attempt to steady herself.

"Yeah… I'm just trying to remember how I got blood on my jacket." She mumbled as her vision cleared. "That's right, I remember. I was in the bathroom this morning when a woman came in with a bloody nose. I was in her way so she tapped me on the shoulder to get past. It was an accident. I must have forgotten." She lied; hoping the beads of sweat appearing on her hairline wouldn't make Chase suspicious.

Fortunately he believed her story. "That's a shame" he commented as they headed for the doors. "It's a nice jacket."

It was raining when they stepped outside. Chase groaned from their position by the doors. "I hate the rain." He grumbled. "We'd better make a run for it. Lucky we got good parking spaces, eh?" he grimaced, turning to her. Cameron murmured in agreement, not really hearing what he was saying. She still didn't want to go home.

"I'm gonna get straight into the car if you don't mind, so I'll say goodbye now." Chase said, reaching out to give her a hug. "I'll see you on Monday. Goodnight."

As he put his arms around her Cameron had an almost irresistible urge to cling to him. The idea of spending the night alone was sending chills down her spine; however, all she managed was a weak hug and a feeble "Goodnight."

"I hope you feel better," Chase added, obviously mistaking her restraint for poor health. Cameron didn't blame him; it was clear she hadn't been herself lately.

With a heavy heart she watched Chase run forward, before reluctantly following him. As soon as she stepped out from the cover of the cinema building Cameron felt the fat, cold raindrops attack her head. The shock seemed to wake her up a bit and she quickened her pace to a jog until her car was within reach.

Chase was pulling out of his parking space when Cameron retrieved her keys from her bag. She paused for a moment to let the cold, refreshing rain wash over her. For a minute she forgot all her fears as the icy liquid soaked through her clothes onto her skin, numbing every inch of her body and mind. It wasn't long, however, before the doctor in her piped up, mentioning something about 'hypothermia' and 'pneumonia'.

Cameron unlocked the car door and climbed in, not worried about the upholstery. She took off her jacket, determined to inspect these 'fingerprints' for herself. She had expected the rain to dilute the blood and make it run, so she was shocked to find the stain intact. It was as if the rain had never touched it. There they were clear as day – two bloody fingerprints overlapping on the shoulder of her jacket. Tentatively she reached out to touch them. Blood came off on her fingertip. Warm blood. With a jolt Cameron frantically wiped the blood on her seat.

Desperate for a distraction, Cameron turned the key in the ignition. She turned the radio up as high as she dared in an attempt to drown out the thoughts racing through her head.

-----------HOUSE MD-----------

The drive home was uneventful, although Cameron's mind was elsewhere the whole time so it was unlikely she would notice if something did happen. The events of the past couple of days kept playing over and over in her head like a broken record.

When she finally made it through her apartment door, Cameron set to work immediately. She hurried from room to room, switching on every light and ensuring the curtains were closed. When that was done she switched the TV on, not really caring about what she was watching. She only had it switched on for background noise anyway.

Cameron stood in her bright, noisy apartment uncertain of what to do next. Her eyes were feeling heavy and grainy, but she was still too unsettled to sleep. Instead she made herself a soothing cup of tea. The pleasantly warm liquid sent waves of heat through her body, making her twice as sleepy. When the cup was finished she placed it in the sink and made her way into the bedroom to change for bed.

Harsh winds were driving torrents of rain into her windowpanes, the noise making her room feel even cosier. She was tempted to go to bed in her work clothes, but decided to change into some fresh pyjamas instead. She slipped her favourite pair of sky blue PJs on and wandered into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Two minutes later she slid under her bedcovers feeling refreshed and somewhat cleaner than before. In her moment of comfort she forgot why all her lights were on, and why a musical from 1953 was playing in her lounge room. It was within this moment of comfort she relaxed against the pillows and fell asleep.

-----------HOUSE MD-----------

Cameron awoke in the darkness some hours later, desperately thirsty. As comfortable as she was in bed she couldn't ignore this need for hydration. She staggered out to the kitchen, groping her way along the bench to the sink. With a glass in one hand she fumbled around for the tap with the other. She gulped down the cold liquid greedily, and filled the glass once more.

She was raising it to her mouth when she heard a sharp rattling breath behind her. She whipped around to find Isabelle's face inches from her own. Her glass fell to the floor, where it smashed into a thousand pieces. Isabelle stared unflinchingly into Cameron's widened eyes with her vivid green ones. Cameron found herself unable to look anywhere but the glowing green orbs in front of her. Finally, when the drumming in her chest reached a frightening tempo, she managed to clap her hands over her eyes and throw herself out the door into the hall.

She ran forward, tears of panic leaving gleaming trails down her cold cheeks. She reached the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. But she was not alone. Isabelle stood against the opposite wall – a ghostly presence with long straggly blonde hair and sunken features. Her unblinking eyes remained focused on Cameron, and with another sickening rattle, she opened her mouth. Cameron held her breath, waiting for a terrible scream to pierce her eardrums, but none came. Isabelle opened and closed her mouth several times, but produced no sound other than a rasping breath. She raised thin fingers to clasp at her bruised throat, still mouthing words Cameron couldn't hear.

In the meantime Cameron was pressed against the door, whimpering in fright. She watched Isabelle trying to speak, heart pounding. After what seemed like forever something clicked in her and she spun around to escape through the door.

But as she grabbed the handle pain shot through her hands and something warm dripped on her feet. In shock, she lowered her head slowly. The sight that met her eyes sent jolts through her abdomen. Jagged shards of glass covered the door handle, sticking out at odd angles. Her hands, which had fervently gripped the perilous handle seconds before, were almost ripped to shreds, rivers of blood flowing from the wounds to her bare feet.

Cameron screamed and clutched her hands to her chest. She spun around again; painfully aware her only means of escape was gone. Isabelle began walking across the carpet, her body jerking sickeningly with every movement. She felt bile rise in her throat as fear gripped her stomach. She saw her curtains flutter on the far wall to her right. She leapt away from the floor with a mind to jump out the window, but as soon as her foot fell to the floor agony surged up her leg.

A sea of glass surrounded her, with shards covering every inch of the carpet. Cameron lost her balance and fell to the floor, bracing herself for unimaginable torture once she hit the ground. Her right hip connected with the floor first, and she felt pieces of glass bury themselves in her flesh.

As she rest of her body flopped lifelessly to the carpet, Cameron raised her head to see where Isabelle was. The dead girl was making her way to Cameron once more, slowly but surely. Dazed by pain and numb with shock Cameron's mind knew only one thing: She must get away. She spotted her wardrobe a few feet away, and began the painstaking journey across to it. She began making her way across the treacherous floor commando-style, leaving a trail of dark blood, which Isabelle began to follow.

As Cameron reached the entrance to her closet, she realised she was sobbing. Salty tears ran down her face, mixing horribly with the metallic blood. As she pulled herself into the closet her last glimpse before she shut the door was of Isabelle standing centimetres away, holding her sallow hands out desperately to the young doctor.

Cameron lay in the dark panting, holding her torn hands to a frantic heart.

* * *

_All opinions are appreciated._


	6. Morning

**Usual Disclaimer applies. **

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The next morning Cameron slowly woke on her wardrobe floor, stiff and aching. Outside birds were singing merrily and cars could be heard pottering along lazily in the distance. She tentatively moved each of her limbs one at a time, not daring to look at the damage. Her pyjamas were soaked through – she could feel the damp blood against her skin. She decided to assess the damage, telling herself she would more-than-likely need stitches and treatment for blood loss. She hesitantly raised her hands before her eyes, a little frightened by what she was about to find.

Nothing. The skin was intact. Cameron inspected the rest of her body, with the same findings. And the dampness she felt was not blood at all – it was a pool of sweat.

Cameron stood up amidst her hanging clothes and opened the door. The lights were on and her TV was murmuring in the background. Just the way she'd left it. There was no glass, no cuts, no blood, and no Isabelle.

The woman of science and fact was beginning to have doubts. 'It had felt so real' she thought to herself. 'I'm sure I'm not crazy. As sure as I know the sky's blue.'

Convinced she wasn't insane and something paranormal was going on, Cameron headed out to the kitchen. Her mind was still at unease, but her thoughts were a little clearer than before.

Only, when you think about it, the sky isn't really blue.

-----------HOUSE MD-----------

Her bare cupboards served as a reminder of her promise the day before. So after a refreshing shower Cameron set out for the corner shop on foot. It was only a couple of blocks away, and the fresh air would do her a world of good.

"Allison!" A middle-aged woman with striking red hair approached, tugging impatiently on a lead rope. At the reverse end of the rope a plump Labrador plodded along happily, wagging his tail contentedly. It was Nina, Cameron's neighbour and friend, who was also a regular patient.

"Come _on_ Fred!" Nina growled. "How are you Allison?" she grinned, slightly out of breath.

"I'm well, how 'bout you?" Cameron answered, leaning in for a quick hug.

"I'm good actually, I- _Fred_!" Nina exclaimed mid-sentence. Cameron jumped back in fright.

Fred, who was usually good-natured and friendly, had turned on Cameron. His teeth were bared in a threatening growl and his hackles were stiff along his back. He began barking and snapping at Cameron, who continued to back away, eyes wide with terror. Worried the lead rope would snap under Fred's strength, she hurried over to the shop, giving the snarling dog and his red-faced owner a wide berth. She waved grimly to Nina, who grimaced apologetically and, with a colossal effort, dragged Fred away.

'What was that about?' Cameron wondered as a bell tinkled above her to signify her entering the shop. 'I've never had any problems with Fred. He's always happy to see me!' More than a little disturbed, Cameron picked up a basket and set about collecting some much-needed groceries.

A little while later Cameron passed the newspaper stand and froze. Her heart started thumping madly, and it felt as though she were suffocating. The floor was slipping away and she began to sink. Somewhere in the distance a jar broke, snapping her out of her reverie. She took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Isabelle smiled up at her from the newspaper cover. Her portrait was placed under the heading "SEARCH FOR A COLDBLOODED KILLER- Police hunt for clues in baffling murder case." With her creamy complexion, soft golden hair and deep green eyes Isabelle was the picture of natural beauty and innocence. Cameron stood staring into the portrait for what felt like an eternity before she tucked the paper under her arm and headed for the counter.

'Did she know she was going to die?" Cameron wondered. 'Did she know she was never going to see her loved ones again? Who could be so cold as to take away her life? Why is she appearing to me? Does she want my help?' These were some of the many questions racing through Cameron's head as she made her way to the counter. Isabelle's face swam into view once more.

_It's easier to die than to watch someone die._

Her own words echoed at the back of her mind. What unimaginable hell was Isabelle going through, wandering aimlessly between the realms of life and death, watching as those she knew, and was yet to meet, flitted by in an array of laughter, tears and love. Watching, as they died, unable to reach them, unable to unite with them once more.

This lost soul was crying out for help, and it seemed Cameron was the only one within reach. She had never been one to turn away from someone in need, and wasn't about to let a trivial thing like death prevent her from helping Isabelle.

'I'm going to do everything in my power to help this girl.' Cameron thought determinedly as she set the shopping basket down on the front counter. Science and fact were no longer important as she glanced once more at Isabelle's photo.

-----------HOUSE MD-----------

Back home, Cameron sat at her dining room table reading the newspaper for the third time. Beside her were her laptop and a few pages of scribbled notes. The most recent addition to these notes was a list titled 'Suspects'. So far there were only two: Lisa Fraser and Daniel Moore.

Lisa Fraser was Isabelle's twenty-five year old neighbour. There was a bit of bad blood between the Fraser and Watkins families, from what Cameron could gather from her print and Internet sources, and Lisa was the one who found Isabelle's body at the murder scene.

Daniel Moore was Isabelle's boyfriend. He was the main suspect in the case. Cameron had highlighted a paragraph on the newspaper that described him as 'a hot-tempered and sometimes abusive man who had been in and out of prison from the age of fifteen'. Cameron knew better than to put her complete trust in a newspaper article, but underlined Daniel's name nonetheless.

Isabelle's mother and stepfather were on the list from the beginning, but after some research Cameron had soon crossed their names out. Isabelle's mother had been dead for the past five years, and her stepfather was cleared by police, with a solid alibi. Her biological father left them when she was very young, and lost contact years ago.

'It's a start' Cameron thought as she looked over her meagre notes with a sigh. She was about to do another Internet search when the phone rang. Caller ID declared Chase was on the other end.

Cameron debated whether or not to answer. She knew he was ringing to check up on her, after her odd behaviour the past few days. In the end she figured he would be more concerned if she didn't pick up. So she held the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi Cameron, er, Allison. What's up?"

Cameron crinkled her nose. Since when did he call her Allison? "Nothing much. Just catching up on some sleep."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…"

Silence.

"Well… I, er, just wanted to see how you were. You haven't been quite normal the past few days."

Cameron smiled. If there were such thing as a state-the-obvious contest, Chase would win hands down.

"I wasn't feeling well. I think it was indigestion. But I'm fine now." She said dismissively as she sifted through search results on her computer.

"Oh, that's good then."

"But I still enjoyed the movie last night." Cameron added reassuringly.

"You did? I'm glad to hear it." Chase sounded relieved. "It's a pity about your jacket, though."

Cameron groaned inwardly. She'd forgotten all about the bloody fingerprints. Although she had a fair idea who was behind it, she made a mental note to take it into the hospital and run some tests.

"Yeah, so am I. It was one of my favourite jackets."

"Could you get the stain out, you reckon?"

"Probably. It's not very big. I suppose I'll have to try."

"I know a good trick for getting bloodstains out. Working in a hospital you're bound to get a variety of stains and bodily fluids all over you, so it's good to be prepared, you know? Just don't tell anyone I told you that." Chase added quickly.

Cameron chuckled. "Okay then." At that moment there was a loud knock on her front door. "Listen, there's someone at my door, so I'd better go. See you on Monday, bye."

"Okay. Take care, bye."

Cameron hung up. She crept over to the door, puzzled as to who would be visiting her. She hesitated, before unlocking and opening the door.

Standing before her were two stony-faced men in smart clothes. They had a distinct air of authority about them.

"Good morning, Ms Cameron?" She nodded slowly. "I'm Detective Williams and this is my partner, Detective Graham. We're investigating the murder of Isabelle Watkins and would like to ask you a few questions."


	7. Warning Signs

**I bought the rights to House from David Shore last night on ebay. Set me back ten bucks but he's worth every cent!**

**Not. I don't own anyone or anything to do with House. I should probably add I don't own David Shore or ebay, either. Don't** **want to distract you from the story any more, so read on! And please review, I'd love to here anything you've got to say. (the line-thingies aren't working so you'll have to make do with dashes) .:dangles completed chapter 8:. Review or you're not getting this!**

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"Please, come in." Cameron opened her front door a little wider and indicated a couch with her free hand. "Take a seat."

Detective Williams, who had introduced them, nodded politely and entered her apartment. His partner, Detective Graham, remained silent and followed Williams without glancing at Cameron.

Once they were inside Cameron shut the door and headed over to the lounge room. Williams had seated himself on one couch with his partner standing beside him, arms folded. Cameron sat on the couch opposite them.

She remembered her manners. "Would you like a drink? Coffee, tea, orange juice?"

"Just some water, thank you." Williams answered. Cameron stood up and walked over to the kitchen, feeling Graham's dark eyes on her the whole time.

She returned a minute later, carrying a jug of water and three empty glasses, to find the two detectives murmuring over a notepad, on which they had jotted down some notes. She placed the jug and glasses on the coffee table before sitting down once more.

Silence fell on the room as she sat down. The two detectives watched her, Williams' hand poised over his notepad. Cameron began to feel uncomfortable. 'Is this an intimidation thing?' She wondered.

Williams cleared his throat after a few moments. "As you know, Ms Cameron-"

"_Doctor_ Cameron," She corrected. These men, particularly Graham, were making her slightly anxious so she needed to maintain a sense of control.

"-Dr Cameron," Williams continued as though she hadn't said anything. "We're here to ask you a few questions regarding Isabelle's death. I understand you saw her on the day of her murder?"

"Yes. She came into the hospital where I work."

"What is it you do?"

"I'm a doctor. I take care of sick people." Cameron replied in a tone not unlike House.

"So Isabelle was sick?"

"No. She'd injured her foot."

"What kind of injury?"

"I'm afraid that's confidential."

Williams paused, looking slightly put-out. Beside him Graham was glaring at Cameron. She didn't falter. Now she felt more at ease, having made her boundaries clearer.

"What kind of glass was it?"

"The _sharp_ kind." Cameron snapped. Having been around House as long as she had, it was obvious her respect for authority had decreased. She cleared her throat and continued. Graham's glare was icy.

"I can't tell you what kind of glass it was."

"Because of doctor-patient confidentiality? Does that even apply-"

"Because I can't remember."

"Did you notice anything strange about Isabelle?"

Cameron paused briefly. She was tempted to remind them of doctor-patient confidentiality once more, but the compassionate side of her spoke up. 'They're here to help Isabelle, just like you are.' It said.

She opened her mouth to tell them about the odd behaviour and bruises on Isabelle's body. But before she could say a word cold fingers wrapped themselves around her throat. She gasped for air, seeing Williams' brow crease, then coughed as her neck was freed a second later. The flesh burned white-hot and Cameron knew at once she was not to tell them anything. It didn't entirely make sense, but it was obvious the sensation was a warning from Isabelle and Cameron trusted her instinct.

"Excuse me, I haven't been very well lately." Cameron apologised smoothly, wrinkling her nose and sniffling for added effect. "No, I can't say I noticed anything odd about Isabelle, apart from the fact she was in pain. But she seemed okay, considering what she must have been feeling. And she was fine when I let her go." Now that Isabelle's warning had opened her eyes a little wider, Cameron saw the detectives in a new light. There was something about them she didn't trust, and this made it easier to lie to them.

Williams bowed his head to scribble some notes. Graham's gaze remained fixed on Cameron. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion – he had obviously noted the ease at which she shared that information, whereas she'd been reluctant to say anything about Isabelle before.

Williams stabbed the notepad with his pen to emphasise the end of that particular topic. He looked once more at Cameron. "Is that the first time you'd met Isabelle, Dr Cameron?"

"Yes."

"Did she return any time that afternoon or evening?"

"No… why?" Cameron frowned. These questions were odd. She was starting to feel nervous again, having guessed where they were heading.

"Just standard procedure Dr Cameron. Where were you at approximately 11:15 that night?"

"I was here… in bed."

"Can anyone vouch for you? A friend, boyfriend, husband?" Williams looked around the apartment, almost as if he expected a boyfriend to jump out from underneath the table and spring to her defence.

"No, I'm single." Immediately Cameron regretted saying that. Williams turned his attention to her once more and Graham shifted his feet, staring at her with more interest that before. She cursed herself for being stupid enough to give information like that away. She could only imagine how vulnerable she appeared to them now.

"I see you've been following up on Isabelle's case." Williams changed the subject at lightning speed, indicating her dining room table with his head. Graham had also turned his attention to the table, or rather, what was scattered upon it.

Cameron groaned inwardly. She hadn't bothered to put away any of her notes on Isabelle's case. The laptop, open at an online article complete with photos of Isabelle, newspaper article with various sections highlighted, and pages of her scribbled notes couldn't have looked very good on her part.

"I guess I feel involved. I had seen Isabelle on the last day of her life, after all."

Although her intentions were to appear sympathetic and genuinely concerned for Isabelle (which she was) Cameron could tell this was the wrong thing to say. The detectives' heads snapped back to look at her. Williams furiously etched some more notes on his notepad. Graham stared at Cameron with such intensity she could feel a blush growing in her cheeks. She was sure she knew what they were thinking.

"'I've done nothing wrong!' She thought furiously to herself. But she was too shocked to turn these thoughts into words.

"You don't think I… had anything to do with her… _murder_, do you?" She finally managed to stammer.

Williams didn't answer straight away. "We have to explore every possibility. " He answered shortly. "We'll keep in touch, Dr Cameron." He tried to sound polite, but Cameron could hear the warning tones in his voice. He might as well have said, "We're onto you, Doctor. Don't leave the state".

"Sure… Good luck with the case." She replied softly, getting up to see them out. Graham was still silent as he followed his partner out the door. Cameron was relieved to shut the door behind them.

After staring silently at the door for a minute or two Cameron gathered up her case notes. She stored them in the bottom drawer of her bedside table, under some old Christmas cards and a photo album. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and glanced out the window.

Dark, sinister clouds had gathered on the horizon, casting shadows over what started out as a sunny, promising day.


	8. The Jacket

**Not much happening in this chapter - just needed to tie up a loose end, mainly. Stay tuned, for the fun is just getting started! For you readers, I mean. Not for Cameron. Oh no.**

**By the way... Whoever guesses one or both of the movies which inspired this fic gets a cookie! Oh yeah, 'cookie' stands for 'chapter nine dedication'. And Belmont Bellamy isn't allowed to enter, because I may have told her already. But Belmont Bellamy's been mentioned before in my A/Ns, for being such a great Beta! Let's hear it for Belmont Bellamy! There, now that I've made her all embarrassed she'll forget about not being able to enter my competition .:smiles innocently:.**

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The rest of Cameron's day passed by without incident. She spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon cleaning, as she usually did when something was on her mind. Actually, to say something was on her mind would be an understatement. Thoughts raced through her head so frequently she often dropped whatever she was doing and stood in a silent stupor until they had sorted themselves out. Even having her stereo speakers turned to full volume didn't distract her from the events of the past few days.

Still, despite her constant preoccupation, her apartment was positively gleaming come evening. Cameron poured herself a glass of white wine and ran a hot bath. While the water was running she set about lighting scented candles. This wasn't something she did normally, but a friend had given her an aromatherapy kit and she decided now was a good time to use it. When the bath was full she slipped her clothes off and glided into the water, her intentions to try and relax.

Cameron inhaled deeply, feeling her tense muscles loosen in the hot water. She held her breath and slid under the surface, letting all thoughts disappear from her head as her hair made lazy spiral patterns before her eyes. She rose a few seconds later and took another sip of her wine.

Some hours, and half a bottle of wine, later Cameron was feeling quite sleepy. The surrounding candles had been reduced to stubs and the light coming from them was dimming. She emptied the bath and began to dry herself.

Now that she was relaxed, Cameron could think of nothing but her bed. She'd stripped and washed the sheets earlier that evening, and was looking forward to slipping between them and letting sleep take over. 'That aromatherapy kit certainly did its job' she thought contentedly as she staggered down the hallway to her bedroom.

-----------HOUSE MD----------

Cameron woke at around ten o'clock the next morning with only one thing on her mind: The jacket. She got dressed straightaway, and tied her hair up in a quick ponytail on the way to the kitchen for breakfast.

When she'd eaten and brushed her teeth she wandered into the laundry to fetch her bloodstained jacket. Taking care not to smudge the stains she carried it out to the car and draped it over the back seat.

The roads were quiet, which was nothing unusual on a Sunday morning. She reached the hospital in no time, and pulled into a space near the entrance. Once she'd turned off the ignition Cameron sat back to think. She wasn't even sure what she was testing the jacket for. Something abnormal? 'Well, it's bound to be abnormal, considering the events of the past few days.' She told herself. She was certain no one was standing behind her in the cinema when she'd felt the tapping. She'd thought it was Chase the first time, but he was definitely in front of her the second time. Cameron picked up the jacket and peered at the shoulder to inspect the stain once more.

'Where is it?' She wondered. There was nothing on the right shoulder, where she'd felt the tapping. 'Maybe it was the other shoulder.' She thought with a frown. Again, there was nothing there. The fabric was as clean as it was the day she's bought it. She searched her back seat in case the blood rubbed off during the car ride, but she couldn't see anything. Cameron checked the clothes she was wearing with the same results.

She was sitting in a stunned silence when something collided with her window. "What the…?" she cursed.

It was House. He was standing outside the car, leaning over to peer at her through the glass. He was saying something. "What?" Cameron asked, winding the window down.

"I said, why are you here on a Sunday?" He said exasperatedly. Cameron froze. She had to think fast if she were to get out of this one without making him suspicious.

"I thought I left my jacket here on Friday, but obviously I didn't." She shrugged, holding the previously bloodstained jacket up for clarification. "Why are _you_ here?" That wasn't a cover up. She actually was puzzled as to why House was at work on a Sunday. He was reluctant to go to work on a weekday, let alone his day off.

"Cuddy." He answered shortly, scowling. When she continued to look puzzled he continued. "She says it's for clinic duty, but everyone knows she just wants an excuse to get me alone and have her wicked way with me." He said nonchalantly, inspecting his fingernails as he did so. Cameron rolled her eyes.

"How're you today?" He asked her, staring intently at her. This caught Cameron off guard. Was that genuine concern in his voice?

"I take it the exorcism went well. You're looking a little more human than you were Friday." He added, peering at her.

Cameron smirked. "Goodbye, House." She told him, winding the window up. As she started the ignition once more Cameron watched through her rear-vision mirror as Cuddy came storming through the hospital doors. She chuckled as the Dean of Medicine scolded the diagnostician, before dragging him towards the clinic by his ear. He turned and gave Cameron a thumbs-up before disappearing inside.

Once he was gone Cameron's face fell slack. Why was the blood gone? She pulled out of the hospital parking lot with a million thoughts racing through her head once more.

----------HOUSE MD-----------

That night, after stressing over the jacket throughout the day, Cameron shoved it as far back into her closet as possible. She couldn't bring herself to wear it anymore, at least until this whole 'Isabelle' ordeal was over.

Thunder rumbled outside her bedroom window, making her body tense. She didn't mind storms, but in her current state of mind Cameron was afraid of the images her brain was capable of conjuring up in the stressful atmosphere. She felt as though she were the lead in a horror movie; the helpless victim who remains blissfully unaware of the gruesome demise which lay in store for her. She felt as though an audience were watching her, waiting for her to open a window or take the garbage out so she could fall prey to whatever horror lay in waiting.

"Stop it," Cameron scolded herself. "The more you think about it, the more it'll frighten you."

Despite trying to be brave, Cameron set about switching all the lights on in her apartment. Dreading the sum of her next electricity bill, she also turned the TV on, just as she had the night Isabelle 'visited' her. Pretending the bright atmosphere comforted her troubling nerves, Cameron poured herself another glass of wine and sat back on the couch. She hadn't consumed this much wine over a period of twenty-four hours since her college days. It was always her drink of choice.

Unfortunately the soothing liquid didn't soothe her at all. She sipped it gently at first, waiting for the warmth to radiate from her throat. When nothing happened she took larger sips. Then she tried gulping the drink down. Eventually she impatiently emptied her (refilled) glass in one mouthful, desperate to relax. Although she felt the familiar light-headed sensation approach, it was doing nothing to calm her.

Rather than ease her mind, visions of the past few days threw themselves at her more and more violently until she threw her head in her hands and gave a strangled cry. Her head was swimming, her heart was pounding and her stomach was lurching.

"Why me?" She breathed. Behind her closed eyelids the scene from her bedroom two nights ago played out in a series of disjointed images and thoughts. Isabelle was staring into her face in the kitchen, Isabelle was reaching out for her in the bedroom, and Cameron was slicing herself to pieces trying to get away. She could still feel the glass slide neatly through her skin; she could still feel the hot tears running down her cheeks.

"Why me?" she repeated. She ran her fingers through her hair, scrunching the loose strands between them, almost as if she intended to pull the wayward thoughts from her head.

'I need to sleep.' She decided suddenly. Jumping up from the couch, she wandered into the bathroom. 'I need some help. I need something to help me sleep." She babbled desperately as she wrenched the medicine cabinet open and peered at the assortment of over-the-counter medications. She rummaged through them, searching for anything that would knock her out if she took a high enough dose. The doctor in her had taken flight, apparently. She was just reaching for some aspirin when a loud rapping sounded through her living room. She paused, trying to figure out whether the noise had come from the television or not.

Eventually she dropped the aspirin in the sink and staggered out to the living room. There it was again – a knock on her front door. She swayed slightly, debating whether or not to answer it. She decided to take a peek, in case it was someone important, like the mailman. Not really caring that the mailman wouldn't be knocking on her door at eight-thirty on a Sunday evening, Cameron made her way over to the door. She opened it a crack, stopping when the security chain was stretched taught. She wedged her face through the gap, and took a look around.

The hallway was empty. Cameron stared into it for a few seconds, before huffing "Fine, be that way," and shutting the door with a bang.

As she spun around to head back to the bathroom, Cameron's shin connected with her coffee table, sending her flying. Her last thought as she plummeted towards the carpet and into unconsciousness was 'I don't remember putting the coffee table there.'

As Cameron lay spread-eagled on the floor, the steady 'clink' of aspirin tablets falling one by one down the drain could be heard clearly throughout her apartment.

-----------------------------------

_Don't flame me!_


End file.
